Caelica, Sonnet IX

OLoue, thou mortall sphere of powers diuine,
The paradise of Nature in perfection,
What makes thee thus thy Kingdome vndermine,
Vailing thy glories vnder woes reflection?
Tyrannie counsell out of feare doth borrow,
To thinke her Kingdome safe in feare, and sorrow.
If I by nature, Wonder and Delight,
Had not sworne all my powers to worship thee,
Iustly mine owne reuenge receiue I might,
And see, thee Tyrant, suffer tyrannie:
See thee thy selfe-despaire, and sorrow breeding,
Vnder the wounds of woe and sorrow bleeding.

For sorrow holds mans life to be her owne,
His thoughts her stage, where tragedies she plaies,
Her orbe she makes his Reason ouerthrowne,
His loue foundations for her ruines layes;
So as while loue will torments of her borrow,
Loue shall become the very loue of sorrow.

Loue therefore speake to Caelica for me,
Shew her thy selfe in euery thing I doe;
Safely thy powers she may in others see,
And in thy power see her glories too;
Moue her to pitty, stay her from disdaine,
Let neuer man, loue worthinesse in vaines.